


Bright-Eyed, Bushy-Tailed

by floodlitesq



Series: we met eyes and i was like 'what the hell' [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (wow?? plug much??), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Awkward Tension, F/M, Fluff, Language Barrier, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, and this is still romantic dw, honestly this is so much more interesting than just the tags, it's all good though! it gets resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 12:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floodlitesq/pseuds/floodlitesq
Summary: You're disgruntled, exhausted despite the time being being well-past midday and the very last thing on your mind is the thought of meeting your intended one and only.-(In which Reader meets Mingyu in rather embarrassing circumstances involving a corner store, milk and a crate of beer.)





	Bright-Eyed, Bushy-Tailed

**Author's Note:**

> it's supposed to be august and yet british weather has decided it's mid-september. i miss the heatwave :-( anyway, our dismal meteorological conditions inspired me to write this little thing, so!! have fun!!  
> (btw, the video i mention is the Adore U choreography on YT. ;) )

Your back KILLS.

It's 2pm on Sunday and the first thing you did today after waking up (at 1:45pm, might you add) was roll out of your haven of pillows with all the grace of a sea lion trying to do a pirouette. In other words, you fell out of bed with a resounding crash that, no doubt, your neighbours felt just as keenly as you did.

"Oh, FUCK ME," you groan in fury, letting your head crash back onto the floor. With any luck, Lucy from next door won't bash at your wall with a broom again in her attempts to get you to shut up. 

Disentangling yourself from your mess of blankets, you successfully regain control of your legs and pad over to your bathroom to do what little you can to improve your miserable attitude. Sadly, having woken up on a rather uncomfortable note, you can already tell that you'll be perpetually disgruntled all day.

You heave a sigh, wrench open the door and stare into the mirror. 

Funny; your Mark, a simple swirl vaguely resembling the shape of a 'c', has drifted away from its usual place wound snugly around your chin and now, like sunshine on dewdrops, glistens gently around the left side of your face, one soft curl resting just above your eyebrow and the other following the curve of your cheekbone. Its colour has changed as well, you note- once a dark, vivid red, it now shines a lovely shade of copper. 

Well. That probably means something. 

-

_You still remember the day you got it- you'd always been something of a late bloomer in terms of romance, but not having a Mark well into your teens was something you hated to admit. Everyone around you, like your parents, your cousins, your friends, had all had their Marks appear within the ages of eight and twelve. Your best friend, that lucky bitch, had been fortunate enough to know of her intended since birth; her Mark was that she could hear her soulmate's voice whenever they sang._

_Everyone knew of their soulmate's existence. But you? No, your body was as blank as paper, your mind silent. You'd fallen into the habit of thinking that your soulmate was dead, or that they already had someone else, or- even worse- you didn't have one at all._

_But you didn't let it affect you. In fact, you became the most enthusiastic when it came to others' soulmates. Every time a friend of yours found their own, it was you who suggested a party, it was you who screamed and hugged them, it was you who brought the new couple gifts. Nothing could come between you and your genuine happiness for them._

_It still stung knowing that you probably didn't have your own, though. At least you'd gotten used to it._

_It wasn't until one of your Sociology classes that you were proved wrong._

_Your teacher, a wry, sarcastic soul by the name of Miss Flauer, had assigned everyone to make a presentation on a topic of their choice in their next class; for what purpose, you didn't know, but to have an opportunity to present your views on the problems of the world? You'd take that with about as much excitement as a 6-year old being presented with a ball pit._

_There you sat, flashcards and USB set neatly on the table and anticipation curled in your gut, while your teacher called the next name off the list up to begin. You were fifth; as much as you cared about what everyone had to offer, you couldn't possibly ignore the impatience domineering your every thought._

_The student who'd just been called was the year group's 'weird kid'. A horse girl, weeaboo and koreaboo rolled into one, it wasn't surprising when the topic of her presentation was revealed to be 'The Korean Music Industry: Golden or Grotesque?'_

_You stifled a groan. As much as you respected idols, there was no doubt that her presentation would drag on for at least ten minutes- and you turned out to be correct. The first slide on her sparkly pink-themed PowerPoint was a link to a YouTube video showing a group of deceptively pretty boys and a dance studio._

_The urge to slam your head into the desk was accompanied by the sound of her pressing 'play' on the keyboard._

_But then, just as the first strains of an admittedly bouncy bassline filtered through the classroom's shitty speakers, your face began to burn. You quickly yanked your head back upright, wide eyes glaring holes through the projected image of the boys dancing._

_It wasn't until maybe a minute and a half into the video that the pain intensified as if someone was trying to sear something into your skin. A boy, clad in a white t-shirt and black track pants, jumped out of the masses of his groupmates to make eye contact with the camera._

_You almost passed out._

_Scraping your chair backwards, you stumbled over to Miss Flauer on the other side of the room, clutching your chin in agony while also trying to ignore the piqued interest of pretty much everyone in the room._

_"M-miss," you gasped, "my face hurts so much, do you mind if I go to- to get a drink, or see what's wrong or something?"_

_Your teacher, bless her heart, was immediately concerned._

_"Of course, but why are you holding your chin like that? Let me see," she demanded. You obliged, gingerly taking your hand away from your face, and her downturned eyebrows lifted in surprise._

_There was a moment where neither of you spoke; the music from the speakers blared in the background. Your teacher said your name softly, and then:_

_"I think you'll be okay."_

_Wrestling the urge to scream with frustration, your expression shifted to one of desperation._

_"W-wait, Miss, what do you mean?"_

_She smiled and sat back down. Your classmates immediately lost interest._

_"Go to the bathroom. I think it's best if you see for yourself."_

_You shook your head in confusion before blindly groping your way to the door, hand again attached to your chin. Just before you left the room, your teacher called to you again._

_"Oh, by the way! Congratulations!"_

_Congratulations...? For what?_

_It wasn't until you saw your own reflection that you noticed._

_The pain was gone._

_Where your hand had been was a 'c'-shaped mark curled gracefully around your chin, glittering softly in the harsh yellow lights of the bathroom. Best of all..._

_It was crimson. Known to be the rarest type of bond, people with crimson marks were said to be met with the deepest, most profound romantic love of all from their soulmates once they came face to face. Their relationships were envied by the whole world._

_And you were lucky enough to have one at last._

_Touching your cheeks gently, a grin that shone with hope stretched across your face and you dropped to the floor, tears filling your eyes._

_When you eventually returned to the classroom, the lights were back on. The last person had just finished._

_While you never did get to present yourself, it was something you didn't mind too much, especially when your best friend screamed and your classmates gaped upon seeing the brand-new mark glimmering on your chin._

_Amid all the glances and gasps from your peers, you made your way over to the horse girl._

_"Hey, so what was the name of that group at the start of your presentation again?"_

-

You glower at your Mark and your reflection a little longer before sniffing exaggeratedly. 

Yeah, moving places and changing colours probably means something. But right now, you can't bring yourself to care. Picking up your facial wash, you stare at the bottle for a moment before proceeding in cleaning yourself up.

It's not until you're halfway through brushing your teeth that you remember you're out of milk. Cursing internally, you finish up the job before rapidly doing whatever you can to fix the tangled mess of your hair- after about three seconds, you decide it's not worth it and yank it into a half-assed ponytail.

Plodding back into your bedroom, you apply deodorant and spray perfume in your general direction before shoving your feet into your old Converse, grabbing your jacket off the hook as you leave again. You thank the Lord that you forgot to take off your fuzzy socks last night because you probably couldn't be bothered to put socks on today.

Oh, who are you kidding, you KNOW you wouldn't have been bothered to put on a pair of socks. 

Once you've reached the kitchen, you quickly take your keys off the hook before surveying yourself in the window.

Yup. You look like shit. Giving yourself a little sarcastic twist of the lips that you call a smile, you leave, not bothering to lock the door behind you. It's not like someone is going to break in while you're gone for all of ten minutes. 

Making your way down to the local Tesco is a simple, fast and mind-numbingly boring journey. You walk past building after building, person after person, all while the temperature is that infuriating state where it's not quite hot enough to go without a jacket but not cold enough to prevent you from sweating. The grey skies don't exactly help with how bleak everything looks either, and you sigh irritably. 

Today's just full of sunshine and rainbows, huh?

A thought occurs to you unexpectedly. Last time you checked, SEVENTEEN was supposed to be somewhere near your town for a concert, right? 

After you'd gotten your Mark, you'd grown strangely attached to the group, so you asked your classmate to give you their name. Since then, you've been a devoted fan, owning a few pieces of merchandise and trying your damn best to understand their songs. Rocket was a real gift- it was both a great song, plus you could actually understand what was going on at least half the time. 

You reach the store, noting the six or seven boys waiting outside, and you think of SEVENTEEN again. Imagine the odds of them being here, huh? It'd be something straight out of a pre-teen's fanfiction, no doubt. You can just imagine the title: 'Cursed Love - a Seventeen x Reader self-insert story by MingyusGirl05xx'.

You shudder. It'd probably have awful grammar, too, but who are you to judge? Let people enjoy what they want to. Meeting any member of Seventeen, let alone in a store, would be a damn miracle.

Making a beeline towards the dairy section, you notice another group of boys huddled in the confectionery section as you pass. That's weird- most of the time, there's only a few people in this store, let alone guys. You've only ever seen old ladies and kids in here, you being the exception. 

You pay them no mind-maybe they're with the other group outside- and grab your milk, making as if to leave. However, going through the confectionery aisle is the fastest way to the checkout, and you  _really_ don't want to take the hike around the whole store again. 

Squaring your shoulders, you stride directly into the masses of cologne and expensive jackets. If they don't like it, they can suck your dick. The store is a communal space.

"Sorry, excuse me, mind if I get through?" 

One hasn't noticed you trying to get past them, so you have to clear your throat exaggeratedly. 

His head shoots up, his eyes clearly showing panic, and you note that he's not wearing a mask or a hat like the rest of his group. 

Huh, he's pretty cu- 

_Wait._

You know that face.

" _Joshua_ _?"_ you gasp. 

The rest of the group in your aisle pivots around, staring at the two of you. Your eyes dart around as well, dipping under hats and over masks- yup, that's definitely Seungcheol, you could tell by his hair- there's Minghao, his clothes could help you identify him from a mile away- and Vernon too, his bright yellow beanie isn't doing much to hide that it's him-

Oh God.

You look like _absolute shit._

And you've just met what looks like half of your favourite band, including your bias, who's standing a little way apart from everyone else, clutching a pack of beer like it's his lifeline and staring at you under his hat as if you're going to disappear. 

But you don't notice, mostly because Joshua has engaged in conversation with you.

"I swear, I won't say anything, but- do you mind if I could have a picture with everyone?"

He's just about to reply when Mingyu wrestles his way forward and speaks a few words in earnest to him, never taking your eyes off you. 

You don't understand a word, but you almost swoon all the same because ever since you saw him in the choreography video, Kim Mingyu has been your ultimate bias. You've always, for some strange reason, adored him. 

Joshua speaks for the first time, tearing you away from your thoughts.

"Would you mind turning your face to the side for a second?"

You're immediately confused.

"Uh, what?"

But Mingyu offers you another set of directions.

"Look," and he tilts his head slightly. 

Curling just over his eyebrow and following the curve of his cheekbone is a Mark identical to yours. Everything- the shape, the colour, the size- resembles the one you have exactly.

Gasping, you stumble forward.

"Y-you- oh my God," you whisper.

Mingyu's smile is blinding, and your cheeks feel as if they're about to crack open.

Your face feels like it's on fire, your heart is pounding with a strength that you've rarely ever felt and when he tucks the beer under his shoulder to gently trace the mark, sparks come to life in your veins, making them feel as if they're filled with sunshine. Everything feels like it's fallen into place. Like it's just...  _right_ , especially now that the two of you have met, never mind the fact that you're in a store. The way that he looks at you, the way that he smiles and just...  _exists_ fills you with a giddiness that you haven't felt since You Make My Day came out for the first time. 

"Can we-" you stammer, raising your arms slightly (never mind the milk you're still holding), and Mingyu just laughs.

He moves forward, enveloping you in the best hug you've ever had.

Your eyes well with tears and your beam almost splits your face in half because he's  _right here_ and he's  _yours_ and you can already tell that he feels the exact same about you as you feel about him because you can feel his heart racing beneath his shirt, just as fast as yours. 

"Oh my God," you laugh tearfully into his neck.

He laughs too, saying something you can't understand, and then "soulmate."

You pull away rapidly.

"Oh my God, you don't even know my name," you bluster.

You introduce yourself breathlessly, noting that everyone in the vicinity is smiling softly, but Minghao catches your eye.

It's probably because he's recording the two of you with a half-smirk on his face.

You immediately pull your hood up because the knowledge that you've literally just woken up is flooding back to you and making itself known in the red hue currently flushing to your cheeks. Mingyu starts forward, probably to tell his friend to stop recording, but in his haste, drops his pack of beer right next to your foot.

It explodes everywhere, drenching you, Mingyu's jacket and Seungcheol, who's unlucky enough to be standing right in the path the can that explodes with the most vigour. 

Everyone breaks out in indignant exclamations, and had the circumstances been different, you would've too. Amid all the chaos, Mingyu stops you again.

"It's nice to meet you," he says, his accent making you smile. 

"Thank you," you say softly, mirroring his expression. "Though I have to ask, how much English do you actually speak?"

He ducks his head a little, chuckling nervously.

"A little."

Tilting your head, you laugh, taking his hand.

"Hey, don't worry. We can work on that."

Mingyu's grin is all the response you need.

**Author's Note:**

> lol ok so that was cheesy af  
> as always, feedback is appreciated!! thankz and i hope you enjoyed yall


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